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Guarded

Page 33

by L. A. Witt


  Everyone nodded, until I got to Jase. He seemed to ponder it for another couple of seconds, then smiled. “I think he’d like that.”

  We headed back out onstage, the audience screaming so fucking loud I was amazed their heads didn’t explode. “This is the first time we’ve played this song live,” I said. “Hope you like it.”

  The band launched into a slow instrumental, with Jase wringing some heart-melting riffs from his guitar. I swayed and nodded to the beat, gripping the mike with both hands as I started to sing “Wish You Were Here.”

  The lyrics—full of sadness and regret over the loss of a friend—nearly undid me, but I got through it, tears streaming down my face, singing every line like it was the last I’d ever sing. After, I walked over and kissed Jase on the lips. Everybody—audience, crew, the whole band—fucking lost it.

  At last we all stumbled offstage, cheering, backslapping and grinning like idiots. We cracked open a celebratory bottle of champagne, though I only had a couple of sips before Jase and I wandered off to our dressing room.

  I crumpled to the couch with a sigh. “Man, am I glad that’s over.”

  “I thought you were having a good time out there.” Jase smiled and sank down next to me. “Sure looked like it.”

  “Yeah, I was, but... first show back after such a long hiatus? Half of it new material? I wasn’t sure how it’d go.”

  He looped his arms around me and pulled me close, my head tucked under his chin. Exactly as it should be. “I’m just happy to be back on the road with you. Everything else is a bonus.” Tilting up my chin, he let his fingertips skim the bare skin where his collar usually rested. “Shall I put it back on?”

  Didn’t need to ask me twice. I grabbed it off the table, then sank to my knees while Jase buckled it on. I’d debated wearing it onstage, until Martin—or more to the point, Millennium—put their foot down. Which was fine with me. Kissing the guy everyone knew I lived with onstage was one thing, but what went on in our bedroom was nobody else’s business.

  I laid my head on Jase’s knee, and closed my eyes.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  I’m happy. Content. The band’s back. We’re making music again. I’ve got everything—everyone—I need. But I didn’t say it. Saying it aloud might jinx it, and after the hell Jase and I had been through, I wouldn’t—couldn’t—take that chance.

  But then, I didn’t need to. One look at Jase said it all.

  “Breathe, Jordan,” he whispered, running his fingers through my hair. “Just breathe.”

  And for the first time in my life, I actually could.

  The End

  Forth Into Light

  Lyrics by Cherie Noel

  Used with permission.

  When we were lost

  In a land not our own

  You rode the wind with me

  Promised I’d never be alone

  Smoke and mirrors, sleight of hand

  Old pocket knife and a new rubber band

  Bound together, blood intertwined,

  Cradled deep in the shadows of your mind.

  Close my eyes and I almost hear you breathe

  Rush in the veins takes me high enough to see

  Lamplight’s crown on the magic that you weave

  Beautiful boy with forever up your sleeve

  Stars in the sky could never be as fine

  As tender skin beneath your jaw

  Arms that held me full of promises and lies

  Smoke and mirrors, and reflected in your eyes

  Brand new rubber bands, pretty cooking tools

  Binding us together as we intertwine

  Searching out the shadows cradled in your mind.

  Close my eyes and I almost hear you breathe

  Lamplight falls hard on the magic that you weave

  Rush of the crowds can you hear them scream

  Lonely god with forever up your sleeve?

  I need to be kept bound

  I spin

  The earth falls down

  You smile

  When I can only weep

  Entwine

  The rushing of my heart

  With breaths

  Of the sublime

  Close my eyes and I almost hear you breathe

  Lamplight falls and magic weaves

  Rush in the veins to be set free

  Green-eyed god, shelter me.

  I dream your eyes are laughing still

  No more goodbyes, no bitter pills

  No more white rooms, no more white walls

  The wind that howled is silent now

  And crowd upon the mountain-top,

  Olympians all still with awe

  At smoke and mirrors, sleight of hand

  Magic of a lonely god and broken man

  I can almost hear you breathe

  A final spell to set me free,

  Bound together, intertwined

  Shadows of your heart and shadows in my mind

  With the laughter of a trickster god,

  He holds me prisoner of his mirth,

  Binds to set me free

  Hides my heart from the bitter tracks beneath your sleeves.

  Close my eyes and I almost hear you breathe

  A rush in the veins that has always been the same

  Lamplight’s crown binds your restless spirit tight

  Holds you close to watch you breathe magic forth into light.

  Acknowledgments

  Our heartfelt thanks to Brien Michaels and Anna Zabo for beta services above and beyond the call of duty.

  And a very, very special note of gratitude to the amazing Cherie Noel, who looked into our characters’ hearts and found those incredible lyrics.

  Also by Cat Grant & L.A. Witt:

  About the Authors

  Cat Grant lives by the sea in beautiful Monterey, California, with one persnickety feline and way too many books and DVDs. When she’s not writing, you can usually find her watching movies or TV (Supernatural and The Vampire Diaries are among her favorite shows), singing along to her favorite band (30 Seconds to Mars), or fantasizing about kinky sex with Michael Fassbender and/or Jared Leto.

  Here’s Cat’s various hideouts on the Internet:

  Website: http://catgrant.com

  Twitter: https://twitter.com/CatGrant2009

  Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/cat.grant

  Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1912055.Cat_Grant

  You can contact her directly at: cat@catgrant.com

  Subscribe to her newsletter here.

  L.A. Witt is an abnormal M/M romance writer who has finally been released from the purgatorial corn maze of Omaha, Nebraska, and now spends her time on the southwestern coast of Spain. In between wondering how she didn't lose her mind in Omaha, she explores the country with her husband, several clairvoyant hamsters, and an ever-growing herd of rabid plot bunnies. She also has substantially more time on her hands these days, as she has recruited a small army of mercenaries to search South America for her nemesis, romance author Lauren Gallagher, but don't tell Lauren. And definitely don't tell Lori A. Witt or Ann Gallagher. Neither of those twits can keep their mouths shut...

  Email: gallagherwitt@gmail.com

  Website: http://www.gallagherwitt.com

  Twitter: @GallagherWitt

  Blog: http://gallagherwitt.blogspot.com

 

 

 


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